


Doll Eyes

by bitchgrayson



Category: Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Bad Ending, Human Trafficking, Hurt Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 10:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19424560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchgrayson/pseuds/bitchgrayson
Summary: Dick regains consciousness in the worst possible situation he’s not sure he can escape.





	Doll Eyes

_It was dark._

That was Dick’s first thought as he gained consciousness. Dick was momentarily confused at the sudden observation.

The last memory he could recall was…

_Hmm_.

Okay, so he couldn’t recall anything specific. He pinned that on either a concussion or any drugs that might’ve been injected into him. That could also explain how heavy he felt. As for his lack of vision, it appeared he was blindfolded. The scratchy cloth brushed barely above his nose.

To his horror, he was also most definitely bare, expect for thin clothed briefs, and his limbs were tied to the arms and legs of a chair.

_Well, fuck._

At least he appeared to have no serious injuries, but that still left him with no indication if he was kidnapped as Nightwing or Dick Grayson.

“Mornin, Sunshine.”

The voice that broke the silence had a thick accent, heavily mixed with country and latin. To his disgust, the heat cascading onto his face indicated the man being at an alarming proximity.

“What do you want?” Dick growled lowly, recoiling onto the back of the chair as much as possible.

The man responded with an amused rumble as Dick heard him shift away.

“Cuttin right to the chase, huh? I like that about ya, darlin’. Saves us both some time, I’m sure.”

In a distant corner of the room, the fall of footsteps could be heard against what Dick assumed to be concrete.

“I’m sellin ya, kid. Either dead or alive, whichever the client prefers. Anyone would give a pretty penny for those eyes, love, but even more for ya intact.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._ Human Traffickers. The worst scum of Gotham. He could now assume he was Dick Grayson, due to the eyes comment, which meant it was most definite that the Bats were already looking for him.

Dick kept quiet, waiting for the man to give away more details of his operation. But he didn’t add anything else. Dick almost jumped when he felt a hand grasp roughly at his chin, steering him forward.

“We already have a bidder. I guess people are more interested in you being on your knees rather than _tus ojitos_. Such a shame. I always liked collecting doll eyes.” Dick couldn’t suppress a shiver as the man’s other finger hovered over the blindfold, tracing the cloth and testing it with pressure.

“Clint,” A new voice called out, “The final offer has been placed. It’s more than the last one.”

“Hmm?” The ma- _Clint_ withdrew his hold on Dick, and he heard him faintly walk towards the other to discuss prices.

Dick knew that if he didn’t get out this quick, he was literally fucked. He cautiously began to untie the ropes on his wrists by contorting them in a fashion he used back at Haley’s. He would need some time to be completely loose, sadly, so he’d have to banter with people keeping him hostage.

“Clint! Look! The little bitch tryna get away!”

Dick froze.

He hadn’t been aware of anyone behind him until now.

Dick tried not hyperventilate as someone surged behind him, tugging one of his wrists and snapping it brutally.

The shocked gasp that escaped him couldn’t express the amount of agony blazing through him.

“Try that trick again and I’ll have you in a body cast, muñeca.” Clint snarled, turning to the other side of the chair to face him, “Would be a real shame to cover it up.”

Despite the blinding pain, Dick squirmed wildly as he felt the band of his boxers being lifted.

“ _Don’t you fucking touch me!”_ Dick wheezed out, struggling against the bonds despite his broken wrist screaming in protest.

That got him a harsh blow against his cheek and fingers digging into his chin again.

“I’ll do what I fucking want, princess. You’re mine, ya hear?”

Dick bit into his lip until he tasted the coppery tang of blood to restrain him from a response. He was surrounded, the occasionally shifts in footsteps indicating at least 6 possibly armed men. And the bastard having his way with him seemed determined. Fuck. If Red Hood or the others didn’t arrive soon…. _No._ He couldn’t lose hope. He can fight this.

“Fuck off.” Dick spat blood towards the direction he hoped Clint was in. He almost regretted it when the bruising pressure moved to his thighs in an instant.

“You just lost the little mercy I had to offer, muñeca. I’m gonna make you bleed real good.”

The animal of terror in him clawed in shrill desperation. Dick could no longer help the ragged gasps as he bucked violently in an attempt to escape the man’s hold.

The sudden _click_ of a switchblade followed with the ropes being untied and Clint’s iron grip disappearing.

“Imma treat you like the bitch you are, Grayson.” Dick was blindly kicked onto the concrete by a shoe digging into his side. He struggled to catch himself with scraped palms and knees, shrieking as his broken wrist landed awkwardly.

Before he could get up, Clint was on him again, this time shoving him down onto his stomach.

“Hold him.” The other thugs obeyed with no hesitation. Dick winced as his arms were pinned down by bruising grips and the little clothing he had on was cut off of him in a single swipe.

_Nononononononono this can’t be happening, thiscantbehappeningthiscantbehappeningthiscantbehappening-_

Dick felt himself lose his composure once he felt someone lift his hips.

“I’m going to fucking kill you if you do this.” The vigilante promised venomously, not being able to keep his voice from trembling.

“With what? Your _good looks?_ ” He heard Clint cackle unsympathetically. Dick would’ve responded if his inside weren’t ripped in a single thrust.

It was all blurry after that. He could hardly distinguish pain from reality.

Dick could only hear his own screams, broken but consistent _._

The window of his soul, shattered.

_Una muñeca sin ojos._

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a lot of eye symbolism in this, so let me put some context. Eyes are the windows to the soul. 
> 
> muñeca = doll
> 
> I left a lot open for personal interpretation. sorry if this sucks I guess :P


End file.
